


Therefore We Moun Singen

by Lindewen



Series: The Apple Taken Was [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Christmas Fluff, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Fluff, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Holding Hands, Kissing, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Miscommunication, No Sex, No Smut, Post-Canon, Restaurants, Snow, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-02-23 05:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23539663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lindewen/pseuds/Lindewen
Summary: It's just another quiet date night at a little local restaurant, this time in Chichester. Aziraphale and Crowley have been officially engaged for nearly thirty minutes now, so they've got an even better excuse than usual to buy the absolute best champagne on the menu. They'll simply enjoy a nice meal, go to a pleasant concert at the nearby university, and go home. But then Crowley starts tripping over his words again...Warning: pointless fluff ahead!
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: The Apple Taken Was [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1697926
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39





	Therefore We Moun Singen

**Author's Note:**

> The sequel to "And All Was For An Apple" that nobody asked for! But it wouldn't get out of my head until it was written, so here we are. It should be readable as a standalone fic. Please note that unlike "And All Was For an Apple," this one does not directly contain music & just has the title it does for reasons of continuity. (Sorry, singer friends, it just didn't fit here!)
> 
> ("Moun" in the title is pronounced "mun;" in modern English it means "must." It comes from my favorite line in Britten's _A Ceremony of Carols_ : "Blessed be the time the apple taken was, therefore we moun singen.")

The snow still hadn’t quite begun by the time they got out of the Bentley at the restaurant in the Chichester suburbs, but Aziraphale could see through the last of the twilight that the clouds were lowering. The drive home to London after the concert would likely be even more interesting than usual, the angel thought, and he pressed closer in to Crowley’s side to warm his cold-blooded fiancé.

“I don’t like the look of that sky,” he said as Crowley waved a hand to miraculously close his car door behind him. “Do you think we ought to reserve a hotel room to stay in after the concert in case we aren’t able to make it home?”

The demon smirked, winding his arm around Aziraphale’s waist for the short walk into the restaurant. “Eager for that, are we? Stuck all the way out here in Sussex, in a snowstorm, with nowhere to go and nothing to do? Somebody, but I can read you like one of your books, angel.”

Aziraphale laughed. “Well, yes, I suppose you can—although in my defense, an incredibly handsome demon proposed to me not half an hour ago. But in all seriousness, darling—the drive—”

He trailed off with a sigh as Crowley’s lips found his temple. “You’ve never needed a defense for hedonism a day in your six thousand-year life, Aziraphale, ‘xcept when you were talking to Gabriel. But seeing as an extremely handsome angel accepted my proposal not half an hour ago—” he grinned, and kissed the corner of Aziraphale’s jaw, drawing a quiet gasp out of him—“lucky for you I’ve got an Only Safe Driving special on, just for today. You pay attention to the weather, and if you have any concerns when we get out of the concert, I’ll miracle us up a reservation. ‘K?”

This time he kissed the angel on the lips—only briefly, but with such infinite tenderness that Aziraphale could only whimper with pleasure and clutch at Crowley’s arm.

***

Inside the little restaurant it was warm and cozy, with blazing hearths on either side of the dining room in addition to the central heating. As he gave directions to the hostess for a table, Aziraphale felt Crowley’s arm slide out from around his waist, fingers trailing down his forearm and wrist to twine with his own. It warmed his heart as much as the fire warmed his body. They walked across the restaurant hand in hand and sat next to each other on perpendicular sides of their square table, where Aziraphale lost no time in flipping their hands over so his brand-new ring was in plain view to anyone who might walk by. He lost several seconds to simply gazing at it.

“—a bottle of the very best champagne you have for me and my fiancé,” Crowley was saying to their waiter.

Aziraphale snapped out of his reverie to bestow his widest and most beatific smile on the waiter, along with rather a larger blessing than he’d quite intended—but the more the merrier, tonight. “Yes, certainly; we’ve been engaged for nearly half an hour now and we haven’t even had a toast yet!”

The waiter grinned at them. “Congratulations to you gentlemen; I wish you both every happiness! One bottle of champagne; our very finest for the occasion.” He set the menus he’d been carrying onto the table and hurried away.

The champagne came shortly, and they toasted “to the world,” beaming at one another and sharing another tender kiss after the first sip. After careful consideration of the menu, Aziraphale ordered the steak with mushrooms plus an extra fork, and they frittered away the time until it arrived, discussing the concert program they expected to see later this evening and speculating on how it would be similar to or different from other performances they’d heard of the same works.

His food arrived, and a comfortable silence fell as Aziraphale tucked in. The angel smiled indulgently at the undignified sound the demon made when he unclasped their hands in order to cut his steak, then drew in a breath as he felt the top of Crowley’s snakeskin boot slide around the back of his calf instead.

“Angel—” Crowley stopped, his gaze cast down at the tablecloth between them.

“Yes, darling?”

“I- I know I said—and I know you said that—” he stopped again, shaking his head.

Aziraphale put down his fork. “What is it, my dear? Take your time.”

“D’you really want this?” He gestured between them, and then his right hand shot out to grab Aziraphale’s left again, and he twisted the ring around his finger.

“The ring?” The angel beamed. “Yes, Crowley, it’s lovely! Just my style. The Art Deco gold band, and the white and black stones, and the beautiful little diamonds like stars—yes, I can tell you put real thought into choosing it. It’s simply perfect!” He beamed and squeezed Crowley’s hand, running a thumb along its back absently as he picked up his fork and took another bite.

Crowley, however, only shook his head. “No, angel. What I mean is, d’you—” he gulped, grabbed his champagne glass, and downed it all in one go. “D’you really want to _get married?”_

“Do I really want to—” Aziraphale spluttered, then took a breath. “Crowley, my love, I’m going to have to ask you to let go of my hand for a moment. Just two shakes of a lamb’s tail while I get something out of my pocket, and then you can have it back if you’d like.”

Wordlessly, the demon nodded, and Aziraphale gently slipped his hand away from his fingers to pull something out of his inside jacket pocket. He slid the small, square box across the table.

“I’d been saving this for a special occasion, darling; I did so want to give you the romantic moment you deserve—after this evening I’d thought of Christmas morning because I could tell the idea meant a lot to you—but I think this may be the right time after all. I had this made around our first anniversary in August, and I’ve been carrying it around in my pocket ever since. Never fear, you are not going too fast for me, and you haven’t been for quite some time now.”

Crowley touched the top of the box with one trembling finger, mouth hanging open just a little. “Wha—? Aziraphale—” he gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing— “Is it—?”

“Open it.”

It was. The ring inside was antiqued silver, blackened but with just a hint of gleam. It was twined around with tiny, engraved leaves and flowers. Aziraphale watched the demon lift the box to peer at it more closely; watched wonder and love cross his expression as he realized that the flowers were apple blossoms.

“Do you like it?”

“Ngk—Oh, angel—”

And then Crowley was surging across the corner of the table to take his face in his hands and kiss him, lips open and hot on his own, tongue flicking into his mouth. Aziraphale whined into his mouth, pressing close, so very far from caring that they were in public, clutching the tablecloth with one hand and the sleeve of Crowley’s shoulder with his other.

When they pulled apart, Aziraphale noticed that the people at the next table were applauding and grinning. The angel couldn’t find it in himself to feel embarrassed. He waved at them, beaming. Then he returned his attention to Crowley, pulling the box back across the table and slipping the ring out of it to hold it out to him. “Give me your hand, please, darling?”

“Ngk.” The demon did so, his fingers shaking, and Aziraphale took his palm in his and slipped the ring onto his fourth finger. Crowley’s sunglasses had fallen a little askew during the kiss, and the angel could see soft joy mingled with disbelief spilling from his eyes across his entire face. With his other hand, the demon groped around the table for the champagne bottle and refilled his glass shakily, then knocked the whole thing back in one gulp a second time.

“Angel—Ssssomebody, but—ngk, you’re—you’re perfect. I—I love you sssso much. But that’ssssss ssssstill not what I—” he trailed off and ran his free hand through his flame-colored curls, gazing into the distance and shaking his head helplessly.

Aziraphale waited, shifting his hand a little to interlace their fingers, attempting to take a bite left-handed and giving it up as a bad job to just sit in silence. After a while, the demon’s breathing evened out and he spoke.

“Wed—wedding, angel. D’you—d’you want an actual _wedding ceremony?_ Or jussss’ do thisssss an’, an’ call it done? Yeah. Tha’ssss it.” He downed a third full glass of champagne.

“Ah. I see.” The angel stroked the back of his demon’s hand while he considered, noticing that it was trembling. “Unless you feel strongly about not doing so, then yes, I think I rather would.”

“Not that I’m arguing, but you ssssssaid this afternoon that you didn’t want a third ring, sssssso—"

The angel chuckled. “And I also said this afternoon that I’d give you this one back after tonight. You can do the same, and we can just exchange these ones again.”

Crowley snatched his hand away and curled it protectively against his chest, shaking his head so vehemently that his red curls flew everywhere. “Not getting it back, angel. ’S mine.”

“Well, do _you_ want a second ring?”

Just then, the waiter arrived. “Hello, gentlemen, just checking to see if your dinner is—” his glance took in the open box and the ring now gleaming on Crowley’s hand, splayed against his chest. “Oh, was it a double proposal tonight, then? Congratulations again to you both!”

Aziraphale beamed at him again. “Yes, I’d been thinking about when I wanted to ask him, but he simply beat me to it this afternoon, so—“ he shrugged, spreading his hands wide as his smile grew even wider. As he did so, however, his eyes fell on the waiter’s left hand, and his own hand shot out to grasp Crowley’s sleeve. “Oh! 

My dear! Look, he’s wearing a bright green rubber ring! Perhaps it’s a new trend. Sir, may I ask the significance?”

The waiter laughed. “Of course! My wife’s a gardener, and as a waiter myself, we go with these silicone rubber rings for day to day. For people who work with their hands, y’know. Athletes, nurses, builders, and so forth. They’re cheap, easy to clean, made to break and be replaced if they get caught in machinery rather than getting stuck. We’ve got the original jewelry at home to wear on special occasions, but we still get to feel like we’re wearing a ring even when we’ve got to work.”

The angel and the demon exchanged glances. Then Crowley whipped his phone out of his pocket and started typing. He was still grimacing, but Aziraphale could tell that now he was hiding a smile in it. “Fine. Temporary rubber engagement rings until the wedding. But angel, you don’t get this one back ‘til they come in the post, you understand? And you’re not giving mine back ‘til then, either. What color d’you want? Black for you and white for me, ‘s that OK?”

“That sounds perfect, dearest. When shall we hold the ceremony? April or May, perhaps?”

The waiter laughed and walked away.

Aziraphale continued eating in silence for a few minutes until Crowley spoke again. “Who would we invite, though? And how much trouble d’you want it to be? Flowers? Decorations? Champagne and cake? Well, those two for sure, I s’ppose.” He shuddered. _“Dancing?”_

Aziraphale laughed. “No, you’re absolutely right; we should keep it small and informal. I thought, maybe Sergeant Shadwell and Madame Tracy, Anathema and Newt, one or two of my neighbors around the bookshop. Not more than five to ten people. We can have it in the park once the weather gets nice, take a few photographs at the end, and take everyone to that delightful little bakery down the street for cake and champagne. I’ll even miracle them a liquor license. And that’ll be just plenty, won’t it? Madam Tracy can officiate for us; we don’t need it to be legally binding in the human sense. Or we can get a registrar if we prefer. Unless you really don’t want to do it?”

Crowley shook his and smiled a little, picking up Aziraphale’s left hand again and nodding toward his plate so he could continue eating. “No, no, that sounds just fine. Small, private—sounds good to me.” He took another sip of champagne. “But it doesn’t answer my question: _why?_ When we both already know perfectly well—”

The angel lowered his gaze to his plate, then picked up his champagne again and took another sip. “I suppose because—” he took a deep breath—“because it matters to me to say my vows to you out loud in public. Crowley, my dearest, most beloved demon, I know you understand why I denied our love for all those years; we’ve already talked about all that. But the more I’ve thought about it, the more important it is to me to make it _absolutely clear_ to you that I am _never going to do that again._ We’re going to officially be one another’s family now, for all the world to see, simply because we’ve publicly promised one another we will be. And after all we’ve been through together, I think we deserve to make a small occasion of that, don’t you?”

By the end of his speech, Crowley’s mouth was hanging open. He worked his jaw a few times, but no sound managed to escape except for a “ngk.” Aziraphale smiled at him and resumed eating. But he had barely swallowed his bite when Crowley lunged across the table corner again to grab him and kiss him so thoroughly that the angel was left gasping.

“Crowley, my love! That was—oh, my; you are—enchanting! What—”

The demon grinned. “That may have been the mosssssst romantic thing you’ve ever ssssssaid to me, angel." He gazed into Aziraphale's eyes for several long moments, until he was suddenly interrupted by his text tone. "Hang on just a tick.” He reached into his pocked and pulled out his buzzing phone, then glanced at the screen and nodded. “Yep, just what I thought. Email from the University. Our concert’s postponed for tomorrow due to the snow. What d’you say I buy you a piece of chocolate cake for dessert, and then I get us that reservation and we can catch the concert tomorrow?”

Aziraphale nodded and smiled back at him. “Very well, then, dear. Reserve away.”

Crowley clicked his fingers, tapped on his phone briefly and nodded, and waved to the waiter. “Besides, I’ve got a dastardly plan for us tomorrow afternoon.”

The angel laughed. “Oh, do you now? And what would that be?”

His fiancé beamed at him and rooted around in his pocket. “I was thinking we could pay her a visit.” He tossed a business card onto the table.

Aziraphale picked it up and read it while the demon ordered the cake for them. “An estate agent! Crowley! Do you really—"

“I just thought—somewhere in the country would be good for us. Give you a bit more space fr’ your books. Proper garden for me. Bit of a break from the fuss of London, but close enough that we can still go back to visit anytime we want for concerts or plays or restaurants. What d’you think? Aren’t we past due for a fresh start, after everything that’s happened?”

Aziraphale beamed, feeling the glow of love pouring off the demon, and took his hand again. “Of course, darling. Yes, that would be absolutely delightful.” The cake arrived, and he took a bite. “Mmm, this is just scrummy! I do believe I could get used to living in this area.”

Crowley was silent for a moment, watching the angel eat. Then he nodded over to the window. “Snow’s started, angel. Looks like it’s really coming down. Glad we can walk to our reservation; it’s just around the corner.”

“And then an evening of coziness together, followed by the beginnings of a fresh start tomorrow afternoon. Oh, I do love you, Crowley. Thank you for proposing to me today.”

The demon flushed bright red. “Ngk. Love you too, Aziraphale. Thanks for proposing to me, too.”

Outside the snow fell, blanketing the world and making everything like new.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is welcome and appreciated!


End file.
